The Story of a Potter
by Marema fanai
Summary: The house of Potter have all but died out. The wizarding world is but a joke of it's former self. When the future looks bleak for the citizens of the wizarding world, fate has sent its hero. A dark knight that is both just and merciless, fair to the good and a demon to those doing evil's deed. This is the story of Harry Potter, the wizard to lead them all. (All chapters reposted )
1. Chapter 1

**The Story of a Potter**

Posted : 06-01-2014

**Summary:** The house of Potter have all but died out. The wizarding world is but a joke of it's former self. When the future looks bleak for the citizens of the wizarding world, fate has sent its hero. A dark knight that is both just and merciless, fair to the good and a demon to those doing evil's deed. This is the story of Harry Potter, the wizard to lead them all.

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**Chapter 0 : Introduction.**

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**Summary:** The house of Potter have all but died out. The wizarding world is but a joke of its former self. When the future looks bleak for the citizens of the wizarding world, fate has sent its hero. A dark knight that is both just and merciless, fair to the good and a demon to those doing evil's deed. This is the story of Harry Potter, the wizard to lead them all.

**Introduction.**

This is my first Harry Potter fanfic. I'm a huge fan and I read fanfiction all the time and this idea came to me. Concerning this fanfic, Harry will be colder, more of a loner than in canon, think of him as a second version of Tom Riddle without the craziness. Before you read the fanfic there are a few guidelines you should read.

*****Currency: **Bronze Knuts, Silver Sickles, and Golden Galleon.

29 Knuts = 1 Sickle.

17 Sickles = 1 Galleon.

1 Galleon = 200 Pounds.

**General Plot:**

Harry will be the Chosen one, but few will know or call him the Boy-who-lived. He will not be hounded for his fame as only Dumbledore and a selected few knew what really happened at Godric's Hollow and everybody thinks that Sirius Black killed the Potters.

To the general public, Harry and his parents will just be another victim of the Dark Lord. Snape will be the same asshole he's always been but he won't pick on Harry as much. Also, I want to make this clear, HE WILL NOT BE A GOOD GUY. Think about it, he was always a backstabbing f**** but in the end he was a hero because Harry saw his memories. HELLO! Snape is a practitioner of the mind arts, he could alter the memories he gave to Harry anyway he wants. Also, Harry won't have things just handed to him, he will earn it.


	2. First blood

**The Story of a Potter**

Posted: 06-01-2014

Summary:

The house of Potter have all but died out. The wizarding world is but a joke of it's former self. When the future looks bleak for the citizens of the wizarding world, fate has sent its hero. A dark knight that is both just and merciless, fair to the good and a demon to those doing evil's deed. This is the story of Harry Potter, the wizard to lead them all.

AN: I would like to thank Commando678 for being my beta, and also for guideing me through the dos and donts of fanfiction. Really man, thanks!

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Chapter 1 : First Blood.

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A splitting headache woke him from his sleep. He knew right away that he was on his back lying sprawled on the ground. The pain in his head prevented him from making any coherent thoughts

Thud...thud...thud...thud...

It was like a circle of war drums banging in his head. Trying to make sense of what was happening, he tried to stand up. Pushing himself to a sitting position his hands had their first feel of the ground he was lying on.

It was damp, muddy, and above all, it had a god awful stench that quickly found his nose. Looking around he could see that he was in some kind of cage; no, he corrected himself, not a cage, a cell, which meant he was a prisoner.

He panicked slightly but chose to remain silent, lest he would alert whoever kidnapped him. Looking around, he could see that he was surrounded by walls everywhere but to his left, where he could see metal bars that formed the entrance or exit to where he was at.

Pushing himself to his feet was a mistake he would not repeat in the near future. It was as if all the pain in his head focused on one spot, making his nauseous. His hands were on his trembling knees as he vomited.

Emptying his stomach contents seemed to lessen the pain in his head, making him able to make more rational thoughts.

Not wanting to sit around in he own vomit, or who knows how many other's, he moved to the corner of the cell that had a layer of straw scattered to it. It was obvious that he was not the first one inside this cell. He could see signs that more than one person were held here before.

Tally marks on the wall indicated whoever were here before him were held for a long time.

The reason he didn't show signs or worries, or panic; as many his age would, was because of two things. One of which he found out last year, when the seniors of his school had the habit of dressing up like ghost to scare the juniors, he would just stare at them calmly. It wasn't that he was scared so shitless that he couldn't talk, no; it was because he had an abnormally well developed 'left hemisphere' part of his brain, the part that deals with processing logic and reasoning.

In those dark un-used classrooms, some of the seniors would send their victims to go and get something for them while others would wait, dressed as ghosts to scare several kinds of shit out of them. When it was his turn, he did as told and went to the classroom and saw the ghosts as everyone else, but instead of freaking out, he adjusted his glasses and looked around, as if waiting for more surprises.

Beside the suspicious order to go to that particular classroom, seeing ghosts in it were something any calm mind would deduce as a joke or prank. But these were children and they weren't supposed to think that logically, except him, Harry James Potter. The prankster seniors, believing that he had nerve of steel instead of a highly logical mind really grew to like him for it.

The other thing was that he had no fear of death. When a person is exposed to an overdose of stress, anxiety or traumatic experiences, the fear of death is lessened. As research shows, when a soldier has seen death constantly, or is under situations where the threat of death is constantly present, death becomes a type of friend, a type of escape. Now, put those emotions in a pre-adolescent child, systematically abused by the family he lived with, the effect became much worst.

It wasn't that he had no emotion, no; he just never saw the need for them and buried them, deep in his heart. Sitting cross legged on the straw, he recalled what happened and how he got to this place.

~XXXXX~

**(Flashback: 10 o' clock in the morning. St. Francis Middle School Bus Tour)**

'Quite down you lot, I shan't tell you again to not to shout', shouted Sister Elizabeth, who, along with Father Harley were the overseer of the School field trip. She was a slim woman of 43, joining the convent at a tender age of 19 when she got the call.

From head to toe you could call Sister Elizabeth you typical nun, slim, near the skinny side and had an aptitude for children. Right next to her was Father Harley, who in contrast to the nun was not your typical Catholic priest. He was black, 6'3 in height and well built, he had a bald shaved head and was an ex British commando. And though he looked like he could melt ice with just a glare Father Harley was a softie at heart, and the children knew it. This was the fourth time the two of them accompanied the children in their field trip.

It was the 18th annual field trip for the students of St. Francis Middle school. As tradition, this outing was held every year in the beginning of summer break for the 6th graders of the school. The school trip, normally lasting for 9 days was the major event for anyone who had ever been in the 6th grade of St Francis middle school; it was a good time for them to know what was in the country. The University of Sussex, the football ground at Westfield, home to Westfield FC and the winery at Horsham were the major scenery. Every year they would visit these places, that is, should the funding allow. They were not able to have it the previous year due to lack of funding, but improve in the country's economy this year made the trip possible.

Picking up the microphone Sister Elizabeth started to explain the historical significance of various sites they came across. Well, historical wouldn't be quite correct as the site included race tracks, a movie theater which was established only five years before, and last but not least a paintball ground which was a major attraction in South east Sussex.

At the end of the bus near the window, Harry was enjoying the view. To him this trip would have been much better if his cousin Dudley weren't coming along, Dudley, the fat fuck.

As he was in his own world, only half paying attention to Sister Elizabeth's voice through the speakers in the bus he was tapped on the head by the person from the seat in front of him.

'Hey Harry, is it true it was you that pranked Sister Margaret?', asked Thomas Cleverly, the tall freckled faced boy who was Harry's classmate.

This was the current topic of conversation around school before the field trip was announced. Somehow, during the middle of taking her class, Sister Margaret's hair color was changed to bubblegum pink. Though no one claimed to be the engineer of said prank, by default, Harry potter was the culprit. And why not?, though no proof could be found, last year, was it not him that crashed the class computer's hard drive when he was using it, was it not him that somehow managed to heat up the water in the cooler to boiling degrees when he was drinking from it, was it not him that somehow cut off the head of St Francis's statue in front of the school and attached it upside down, the list went on and on.

So whenever some unique prank happened, he was to blame. Try as he might to deny it, it so happened that he was always found at close vicinity of where the pranks happened.

'Shut it Tom, as I've already said it wasn't me!', Harry said in his defense.

'Yea right! Heard that before', said Sam Jefferson, the boy sitting next to him. But as Harry was about to deny the accusation Sister Elizabeth made use of the speakers to make her presence known.

'Cleverly! Potter! Jefferson! Stop your private committee and pay attention. Cleverly, sit straight', shouted the nun.

Soft snickers could be heard from the other students, especially from the students who sat at the other side of the bus. 'What a bunch of losers', commented Dudley Dursley, Harry's cousin, which earned him a glare from the three boys.

As Harry was busy torturing Dudley in his mind for the cheeky comment, he was brought out of his thoughts by a noise, actually it was a couple of noised mashed together to form a piercing sound.

The best he could compare it to was the sound of a sonic boom made by the fighter jets he saw at an air show. The others in bus were busy covering their ears from the piercing sound.

Sister Elizabeth, who was busy explaining the history of the bridge they were about to cross had to drop the microphone to cover her ears, turning to Father Harley who sat next to her for some sort of explanation. Said Father was dumbfounded, there wasn't any military airfield in the Sussex country, also, no military jet would fly so close to civilian areas. Even if they were in the middle of a one way country road, it was only several miles to the nearest town.

As the front tires of the bus were on the bridge it happened. A bright red light hit the front of the bus at the driver's side, the light hit the bus with such a force that the front end of the bus was lifted several meters off the ground, while the front bottom of the bus was exposed, several red lights that looked to be more potent than the first struck the exposed section, pushing the bus back a good distance causing it to start in an awkward roll.

It was complete chaos; gravity seemed to have no meaning for the passengers as up and down exchanged places, screams could be heard from the many terrified students. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity it stopped. It was as if someone had hit the mute button, all was quiet, like the silence was daring anyone to break its few seconds of existence.

It started as a hushed sob; you could tell it was a girl, too much in pain to cry out loud. Others joined quickly till there was a tempo of shouting, cries, some called out the name of their deity.

Beneath the rubble of the upside down bus Harry managed to gather his bearings, it took him a few moments to clear his spinning head but he managed. He was upside down in a messy bundle of bags, seat covers and what he was sure was a foot to his face, his weight resting uncomfortably on the back of his head. But somehow, he managed to roll upright, the foot at his face making it a difficult task.

'Harry', it was a soft voice, trembling. Looking to his right he could see who the foot belonged to, it was Jefferson. The poor boy was pinned to his seat by a steel rod in the same position he was previously, his upper half that is, while his lower half was bent at an angle the human body was not supposed to bend.

They say that white lies are useful for cheering up friends and loved ones when they are down, or sick. But here, when death was as sure as the rising sun, what would one say?

'Oh! Tom...' was all Harry could say as tears rolled down uncontrollably. A soft 'Harry' was all Jefferson could whisper before he slumped dead, his eyes still open in all its terrified state.

Before he knew what was happening the was the sound of steel being torn, the two sides of the bus were ripped open and a hand reached his throat, dragging him outside and dropped him on the hard asphalt road.

Looking up he saw for the first time the people who were responsible for this whole ordeal. A quick head count told him there were seven of them, those that he could see anyway, but, the way these people were dressed, and looked, that was what bothered Harry.

His attempt to stand was halted by a quick hand to his shoulder, forcing him on his butt. 'If you don't want to die keep still', growled the person handling him. Looking at his face one emotion filled Harry to the bone, Fear!

The person; man, was animalistic. From the predatorily red gleam of his eyes to the stance he took, it reminded Harry of an animal, a dog, no! He corrected himself, a wolf. The man was not tall, barely 5'8 in height, his clothes were faded, and a sure sign they have been through rough weathers, with a leather coat that covered the majority of his body. Though barely a few inches taller than Harry, he handled him in such a way that it seemed like Harry was a feather.

'He's going to kill me', was all Harry could think off.

'Please, please', he looked to the source of the pleading. It was Jonathan McKinley, one of Dudley's friends, he was handled more or less the same way as Harry, but except the person manhandling him was even scrawnier.

'Fuck they're strong', Harry thought. Looking around he could see a number of his classmates were also outside the wreckage, possibly dragged out like him. Some were okay, barely a scratch on them. But the others, they were not a delight to look at, broken bones barely connected by skin, huge gashes and cuts on their person and bleeding profusely. He even saw Dudley lying on his back, unconscious, there was a tear on the front of his shirt that came from a cut, and his shirt was soaked in blood.

A scream brought his attention to the far end of where he was looking, it was Sister Elizabeth, fending off a guy trying to hold her with her left hand, her right hand was hanging to her side, a dislocated shoulder maybe. The other attackers were finding it amusing that the injured woman could still put up a fight and roared in laughter.

'Stop playing with food Bofur', came a cold voice from the top of the bus. It was a man, who; if possible, looked even more terrifying than the others.

No more than a second passed from the command as the guy called Bofur tightened his grip on Sister Elizabeth, spun her around and bit her neck from behind. The nun only had a chance to utter a gasp as Bofur tore off of a large portion of her neck.

Before anyone had a chance to make a sound a figure rocketed out from the upside down bus and speared the cannibal, it was Father Harley. The priest's face was a zig-zag of cuts; blood seemed to flow from his head instead of sweat. Roaring with anger he attacked Bofur, spearing him on the side.

The cannibal let go of his victim and she dropped like a doll, blood gushing out from her neck. The most painful thing for the students who saw her was that if you looked in her eyes, you could tell she was still alive, her life force slowly fading the blood.

In all possibility, Father Harley; a well-built man, still very strong even at the age of 49, an ex-commando to boot, trained in the art of armed and unarmed combat should have trampled the little cannibal before you could say 'pie'. But amazingly, Bofur did not budge an inch. Instead, the scrawny little man just let the Priest crash into him, it was like a car smashing into a stone wall, before Father Harley could recoup, he grabbed Priest's head with both his hands and head butted his face, a sickening crunch could be heard as even more blood flowed from Father Harley's face. And as if the gore wasn't enough, Bofur dropped the limp man to the ground, took something that looked like a gear shaft from the bus lying on the ground and bashed the Priest's head repeatedly.

Before he could control his body, Harry was up in his feet and racing towards Bofur. No sound escaped his lips but his face betrayed anger, pain and revenge. As Father Harley had done Harry leaped towards Bofur but the man dodged with the agility of a cat, spun around to Harry's exposed back and swung the gear shaft at the back of Harry's head, and from there, everything went dark.

**(Flashback Ends)**

~XXXXX~

**(Auror Outpost: South Sussex, Near The English Channel)**

Auror Captain David Fuller was not a happy man, out of all the captains in the senior corps he was selected to man this desolate outpost. Why was he; An apprentice of the legendary Mad-Eye Moody ordered to this side of the country?. 'Honestly! Nothing ever happens out here' he grumbled to himself.

What irritated the Captain the most was that there was an on-going investigation at central. Two months ago, a pack of lycans began abducting children, no doubt to increase their pack. Now, this would have been normal ten to fifteen years ago, but after the disappearance of the Dark Lord in 1981 things had been quite, the Dark Lord's allies retreated to the shadows from whence they came.

This was the first big case in almost eight years and war hardened aurors and their junior counterparts were itching for action. Also, the last known kidnapping happened almost a week ago at Hogsmeade Village where fifth year students, two boys were kidnapped, never to be heard from again. This was the third time such kidnappings had happened; the first one was in Wiltshire, which was where some of the more prominent purebloods lived, here a child, who was barely 10 years old was taken. The second one was also a Hogwarts student who was on his way back to school after attending a funeral service of his grandfather; he was taken near King's Cross station where he was waiting for an escort from the school.

There were few aurors who were more senior than him nowadays, and out of those few privileged aurors to live long enough, he was probably the only one whose station was constantly changed around the country, or so he thought to himself.

Since the first incident, the Ministry had been in a state of alert. Aurors were called back from any previous engagements they might have had and were on duty 24/7, which was why this outpost, like many other around the country, which were rarely used since the last war; was made operational again.

In every outpost, a team of 8 aurors were on duty. These teams generally consisted of a captain which was usually a veteran, one medic, and the rest were green horns fresh out of the academy.

As the captain sat in his chair in the duty room, contemplating on his lack of good fortune, he was brought out of his thoughts by one of his subordinate who was the makeshift radio man. 'Orders from HQ sir, there had been some kind of accident concerning a muggle school bus, they want us to check it out', he said, handing the captain the order paper.

Looking at the paper carefully David told the private to rally the others. 'It might not be so boring after all' he thought, working with muggles was always fascinating.

~XXXX~

Eight brooms hovered at the tree lines near the bridge where the ambush took place. The aurors on those brooms were under a concealment charm, observing the situation before stepping in; they couldn't apparate to this location as there was not appariton point nearby to conceal them. They could see the school bus, or what was left of it, surrounded by a bunch of muggles.

It didn't take them long to obliviate those muggles and send them on their way, and they levitated the bus to the side of the road and put it under a notice-me-not charm.

There was blood all over the bus and road, and it had that stench, the kind of stench that meant there had been death in that place. The first analysis revealed that powerful dark spells were used which shocked the team, it was now clear wizards attacked the bus, the question was why?

Blood samples, tissue samples, hair samples were collected all over the scene, all in a matter of minutes using magic. The medic had drawn a rune circle placing the samples one at a time to find who it belonged to. Though the test was not as accurate as DNA testing, it was useful for finding out if the samples belonged to wizards, muggles, or any kind of magical creatures out there.

The first ten or more samples had that distinct brown glow when placed inside the runic circle. Then, there was a moment of surprise as the thirteenth sample; a strand of hair, had a silver glow. 'WEREWOLF!' the medic shouted.

As soon as the medic revealed his discovery, several emotions went through the captain, sadness; for whoever was unfortunate enough to come across the werewolf. Surprise; for finding werewolves at a place like this, and joy; for finding werewolves at a place like this.

'Anyone we know?' asked the captain.

The medic drew another rune circle, placed the hair in it and pointed his wand at the hair. '**Slavakus**', then the hair had the same silver glow till it reduced to a small silver glow at the tip of the wand.

Taking out a folded parchment that had the ministry's emblem on it and unfolding it on the ground, he placed the spark on it till it was absorbed by the paper.

There were several names written in ink on the parchment, the names of 38 dangerous werewolves known to the ministry. After a moment, a name written in the parchment had the same silver glow.

'Bartholomew Bofur, a member of FenrirGreyback's pack and his right hand man', grunted the captain between clenched teeth.

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~Chapter End~


	3. First Blood II

**The Story of a Potter**

Posted: 06-13-2014

Summary:

The house of Potter have all but died out. The wizarding world is but a joke of it's former self. When the future looks bleak for the citizens of the wizarding world, fate has sent its hero. A dark knight that is both just and merciless, fair to the good and a demon to those doing evil's deed. This is the story of Harry Potter, the wizard to lead them all.

AN: Chapter beta-ed by Commando678

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Chapter 2 : First Blood - II

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**(Greyback Pack Coven: Somewhere in the Midland Forest)**

The Midland forest England always had strange tales attached to it, from the earliest Celts who settled here to the modern day, there had been stories of fairies, spirits, ghouls and monsters roaming this forest. There had been of eye witness claims of vampires, werewolves, witches and the like. Though most of these claims were more along the hype that went with the forest, some of them weren't that far off from the truth. For in this very forest, on a lonely dune was a lonely Oak tree. What set this tree apart from the other trees was not its leaves, branches or height, no: what set it apart was what it held underneath, for underneath the old tree was a beehive of tunnels, chambers and werewolves.

For any on-looker, the werewolf pack leader sitting on his throne would be a sight in and of itself, you could tell from his frame alone he was not someone to be trifled with. Standing at 6'3 the lord of the pack had everything the books of old would speak of a dreaded werewolf – power, leadership, cunning, brutality, and a thirst for blood; human blood. Yet with all his attributes, though it did not show it, someone who knew Fenrir Greyback as a friend could tell he was worried.

It had been a good haul, 36 children in a space of three months, and four of them were magical to boot. The future of the pack would be promising should all of them survive their transformation. It was a shame that ten of the muggle children could not be saved, they would have been a bonus, but; like the three adults who had been on that bus, they would not go to waste, after all, he would soon have a lot of mouths to feed, and nothing taste better to changelings than man-flesh.

The new moon would be here soon, only three days of waiting till the ceremony. He could hardly wait; it was going to be a pleasure sinking his fangs into those delicious children's flesh, thus awakening them to a new existence.

And yet, despite all the pleasure that awaited him in mere days, he was worried, and why not? Less than a decade ago they had been unchallenged, less than a decade ago they were not hunted as they were now. Less than a decade ago they had the backing of a Dark Lord, doing as they please, causing terror in the hearts of men, living the life a true werewolf pack was meant to live. Less than a decade ago, those imbeciles from the wizarding government would not dare challenge them.

But now, they were but a shell of their former selves. In a span of just eight years, they size of the pack was reduced from a near three digit number to just fifteen, hunted to near extinction. With the disappearance of the Dark Lord, those fools could put on a facade of bravery.

In his heart of hearts, Fenrir knew the Dark Lord would be back, he had seen visions of it. And when the Dark Lord does return, he would bring hell and brimstone on those who hunted him so feverishly. But until then, he would wait, another decade if needs be, he was patient; all he had to do was survive.

**~XXXX~**

From the torch outside his cell alone Harry could tell this was no ordinary place, the supposedly wooden torch was burning for almost four hours according to the watch on his wrist, and on top of that, the flame was unusually bright for a torch, which just wasn't normal. The pain in the back of his head had greatly lessened from when he first woke up. Sitting on top of a small layer of straw in the corner of the room, Harry wondered what happed to the others, the last time he saw them a number of his classmates were still alive, so he couldn't be the only one taken to this place. And if this was a kidnapping, there would be no point in taking only him, they more children they took, the more ransom money they'd have he reasoned.

It had been eight hours since the incident at the bridge and he had been out cold for the majority of it. It had been four hours since he gained consciousness but you could still see the tear stain on his face from his crying in the first three hours. Since the moment he was able to put coherent thoughts together, the image of Jefferson dying; pinned to his seat haunted his waking eyes.

'Maybe Aunt Petunia was right, maybe I am a cursed freak', he thought, memories of freaky things that happened to him flashing before his eyes. 'No! He couldn't think like that, he promised Father Harley he'd never think of himself as a freak again last year'.

'Father Harley, the man had always been so kind to him. The way he was butchered was not the way a holy man was supposed to die, as Sister Elizabeth. The two of them, along with the other teachers at the school had given the prime of their lives to God, they weren't supposed to die the way they did, God was supposed to protect them, he was supposed to deliver them from evil like in their prayers was it not?. So how, how did they just die like that'.

He wondered how any man could have been so heartless, so brutal to a bunch of school children. No matter how vile criminals may be, they weren't supposed to hurt children right? That was what they were taught; 'Children had guardian angels that protected them from harm'. Sure, those people might have slapped them a couple of times but not kill them. 'Oh God!, please help me', Harry cried out, his weary head resting on his knees.

When the last of his tears had fallen, his sorrow vanished like a flame in a hurricane. Instead, a new felling entered his heart, HATE! Hate for the animals that had killed his friends, hate for heartless brutality, and most of all, hate for the man called Bofur. In that small moment of clarity, Harry knew; he knew as sure as the sun would rise each day that he would kill the man Bofur, and he would enjoy it.

~XXXX~

**(South Sussex: At the scene of the ambush)**

Auror captain David Fuller cursed for the umpteenth time that day. It was a reasonable response for the result his underlings had just reported, as the previous three cases of kidnapping before this one, the kidnappers vanished without a trace. The two men he assigned to look for residue magical signatures left by portkeys or apparition reported back negative. Although he loathed them, he had to give those kidnappers some credit, they weren't amateurs.

'Wait! Captain!', it was Smith, one of the two he assigned to the afore mentioned task.

Hoping against hope the captain quickly turned to the man. 'What is it?', he barked out.

'I have a faint signature, it's definitely from today', Smith said, glad for the piece of good luck. Without wasting a second Captain David sprinted to where Smith was standing, waved his wand and casted a non-verbal spell. The slight smirk on the captain's face told his men all they needed to know, finally, they were going to see some action.

The spell Captain David casted was a revealing charm. It was not something you would see in any spell book as it wasn't something you could learn from a book; it was the type of spell that came with time in control over one's magic. The captain himself learned it from Mad Eye Moody, who taught him what to look for, and once he found it, how to separate and further analyze it.

From his observation, the captain deducted the faint signature wasn't from the werewolves, it was far too pure, far too free of werewolf taint for it. Also, the fact that they were always able to mask their magical signatures; or those of the person they kidnapped meant that they weren't aware they were leaving a trace. But, it could also be a trap; a trap meant for aurors to follow so that they could ambush them at the end, the captain chose the former, they were far too careful not to leave any trace in the previous kidnapping. But if it wasn't from the kidnappers, whom did the signature belong to, this troubled the captain. Although it was a faint signature, it was potent, as potent as his or his men, so who could it belong to. Was it possible there was a wizard or witch on that bus? If so, then why didn't he or she fight back? It was clear from the magical residue that the only spell used here were on the muggle vehicle, there was no telltale sign of battle.

The theory was plausible; many muggleborns went to their world after graduation if they couldn't settle down in the wizarding world, could this be one of them? They fact that the magical signature they found could belong to a child never occurred to the captain as he was sure such a potent signature could only come from a full grown wizard; one who had trained and tamed his magic. Because if; and only if it was a child, even a teenager, it would mean that someone old enough to be his son or daughter had magic strong enough to cast the same spell as him or his men. Since this was highly unlikely, it had to be an adult.

Wether a child or an adult, it didn't matter to the captain, the werewolves had finally made a mistake, and they would make them pay for it.

'Robards', the captain called whilst maintaining the spell he had casted. 'Return to the outpost, get the Aghanim's cube, make sure it's fully charged'. With a nod Robards vanished.

The Aghanim's cube was an ingenious invention that allowed the user to ride the magical trail left by another wizard, weather it was a portkey or apparition trail. It was a small cube, easily concealed in a pocket. When activated the cube split in half, the upper portion rising a good 4 inches from the lower and further splitting into four parts by the same inches, revealing a central green orb with complex rune markings. If another wizard wanted to go along the ride, all he had to do was touch the cube or the person holding it, truly a remarkable invention. Though it was meant to be used in the last war, for catching Death Eaters who were fleeing, it never saw action as by the time it was approved, the war had ended.

**~XXXX~**

Harry sat in the same position on top of the straw layer; he hadn't moved an inch save to rest his head on his knees from time to time. Now, his back was straight against the wall on the corner, his eyes scanning the outside of the cell for the slightest movement. It hadn't occurred to him until a second ago that there was no sound, not the slightest sound of another person, or the buzz of mosquitoes that would have been aplenty in a place like this. He knew this because he had squatted one a few seconds ago, only till it was a feet in front of him did he heard the buzzing.

After the first one he kept a close eye on the cell door as there wasn't any other opening for the mosquitoes to fly in from. Though there wasn't the best of lighting, he could make out the small form of the little insects as they came in, he held his breath as he didn't want any noise to get in the way of his hearing, and sure enough, he could only hear the little bugger only when he had crossed the cell door. He was now sure; there was some kind of mechanism on the cell that prevented any outside noise from being heard by people on the inside.

'It's probably to keep the prisoners from communicating', he thought. Then he wondered if it also goes the other way, he had half a mind to shout at the top of his lungs to see if anyone was coming, but he quit the idea in fear of if they actually did came.

As he was in the middle of his thoughts he saw a silhouette of a person from his right side, Harry quickly rested his head on the wall and pretended to be asleep. His heart was jumping in his chest as the person came into view; it was one of the kidnappers carrying someone on his shoulders, and judging from what he saw the person he carried was unconscious. From the way he walked the kidnapper was either a limp or he was drunk, probably the later.

The few seconds he walked through Harry's cell was all it took for the boy to make an analysis. Judging from the size of this man and from what little of his face he could see, he was not among the people who ambushed the school bus, Harry was good with faces; he would remember if he was. And the person he carried, a boy, but too big to be a middle-schooler, he certainly wasn't from the school, which meant other prisoners. Harry was now hopeful; if these people kept other prisoners then his classmates could be alive.

Slowly, very slowly he moved forward. He could see the side of the kidnapper; he had stopped right next to Harry's cell. From the way he moved Harry could tell he had thrown the boy on the grown.

'Good thing I didn't wear my glasses', thought Harry. If this was the same way he entered his cell, his glasses would certainly have injured his face, seeing as he woke up with his face to the ground - God bless the wonder of contact lenses.

There was another cell right next to his, Harry was sure of it. Suddenly the man stiffened, Harry froze. He wasn't sure but somehow the man had sensed him, sensed he was being watched, he held his breath, not daring to make a sudden move least he should be seen.

When he saw the man going back to what he was doing he relaxed a little, but kept a close watch. From the inside of his jacket the man pulled out something, a stick.

'What the fuck'.

The man stepped back a little, pointed his stick forward and a small yellowish light shot out from his stick to the cell next to Harry's.

As terrible the place he was held in, for a moment the young Potter could only voice words in his head that was appropriate to what he had seen.

'Holy shit! I've got to get me one of those.'

Slowly he stepped back, slightly dazed at what he saw. When he was back sitting on the straw Harry's thoughts were on the stick the man held, 'no, not a stick, a wand, a real life honest to goodness fucking wand'.

So lost was in thought he was that he didn't even see the man walking past his cell. It was too amazing, too fresh in his mind to think about anything else. Of course, he had seen strange things before, on the telly or with his own eyes, none compared to this.

Strangely, in a way, it all made sense. From his 'appearance' on the school roof, the snake from the zoo, or even his hair, it all made sense. He didn't imagine those things at all.

It may have been hard for people in the early half of the century to believe the things he had done or seen. But for Harry, who grew up in a generation where the television, cartoons and comic books were the integral part of a child's life. It was not that hard, no matter how hard he was disciplined by the Dursleys to accept they were but his imagination.

His hunger brought him back to the present. Aside from the few candies Jefferson shared with him on the bus, he hadn't eaten in hours, the growling of his stomach supplementing it. It would be a shame – his anger, his promise for revenge, all to be meaningless because he died from hunger.

'If I ever get out of here, I'm going to make them pay, every last one of them, no matter how long it takes me. I AM GOING TO MAKE THEM PAY', he promised himself. His anger greatly fueled by the hunger growing in his stomach.

A clicking sound stopped the boy from dozing off. He had been in here for almost ten hours and, try as he might; he wasn't able stay awake, his exhaustion, hunger and healing injury taking their toll.

Looking up from his knees he saw the door opened, and standing on the corridor outside was another man Harry hadn't seen before. 'Outside boy', said a smooth voice, almost too smooth to belong to the likes of this man. While he didn't look as much a bum as those from earlier, he was no less animalistic. The urge to charge the man was silenced by the man bringing his right hand forward; there was a wand in his hand.

Stepping out from the cell his first glance to the left confirmed what he had already suspected, there was indeed another cell next to his, next was a stone wall. The sight to his right however, was not something he expected. At the far end of the corridor away from them, he could see his classmates; he made out Dudley first from the crowd as he was his cousin. As much as he hated Dudley, he was a sight for sore eyes given the situation. The black dressed man next to them told Harry why they were as silent statues, despite how scared they looked.

A hard nudge from the man next to him told Harry he was to go with his friends. As he walked the muddy path, he counted eighteen cells from the one next to his own to the one next to the large wooden door the others were standing next to.

A quick head count said there were thirty four of them, 'Seven of his classmates were dead', registered in his head. A closer inspection told him there were two boys, both of whom he never meet before, One of them was even taller than Dudley. He looked to be in his teens; no older than seventeen if Harry were to guess, and he wore a tattered remain of what looked to be a school uniform. The other boy soon caught Harry's eyes, this one was around his age, and the boy sported a black eye and swollen cheeks, no doubt from their captors.

Counting the one still inside his cell and himself, there were thirty six of them here. Out of that number, three were clearly not from his school, which means there were still ten of classmates he hadn't seen. 'Nine', he corrected himself, Jefferson's death flooding his thoughts. Harry fought back the tears; these people would not see him weak.

He forced his thoughts back to the two boys, from the looks of it; both boys were in here long before him and his classmates. Both of them were pale, no doubt from lack exposure to sunlight, and thin. The one who was put in the cell next to his looked the same height as one of the two boys, 'From the same school probably', Harry thought.

~XXXX~

Following the slipstream residue of magical travel was not an easy task, as the auror team A-5 soon found out. Every five miles or so they had to stop as the trail they were following became too faint. They would wait a few minutes for the cube to re-trace the trace, amplifying the signal so that it was strong enough to follow.

Were it not for the talented private Robards, they would have lost the trail a good one to two hours ago. The private piloted the cube with a seeming ease that it looked as though he had done it all his life, instead of the tree times he had done it during his training. After all, the Aghanim's cube navigation was included in their training only at the beginning of the year.

Nearly another hour of riding the Aghanim's cube brought them to the edge of a forest. They could tell they had reached their destination as the cube began powering down, it would be of no more use. Before it folded itself Robards checked the navigation rune, it read 52.9800° N, 0.7500° W. Though it was not correct to the decimal, the cube was reliable to a ten mile radius of its intended target, and for a wizard; it was not a great distance.

'Were somewhere in the midlands', the captain was the first to figure out the co-ordinates. Without wasting a second, he was on the radio, requesting backup.

'This is team A-5, requesting immediate back up on vector of our Aghanim's cube, send as many as you can spare. We're pursuing class 5 magical creatures who abducted muggle children, numbers unknown, expecting heavy resistance'.

Captain Fuller knew any available unit would be rushing to their location, it had been too long since any auror; Veterans or rookies saw any real action. They would be itching for a chance to prove themselves, he just hoped they didn't sent any glory hound.

Five minutes later, the size of the auror team increased from 8 to 37, three full teams plus five hit wizards answered his back up request. As the leader of the team to first stumble onto this situation, he was the default leader. Also, out of the 37 aurors standing at the edge of the forest, he was the most senior.

'Gentlemen, We'll be going into the wolf's den,' he addressed the men, this time his tone was less commanding than how he normally barked orders, letting them know he was dead serious. 'Do not hesitate to kill, lethal force is allowed; just remember there are hostages', after a pause the captain said, 'Try not to die'.

~XXXX~

The hall they were herded to was as puzzling as the cell Harry was held in. It was a huge circular structure, at least 30 yards in diameter, and the height of the ceiling from the ground was somewhere in between 15 yards. What caught Harry's eye was that there was no visible support column.

If they were underground as he deduced, the weight of the dirt above the hall should be enormous. Surely there would be a few columns visible for such a huge room.

A stench brought him out of his thoughts, he did a quick scan of the people that were in the hall and he saw it. On top of some kind of a platform stood the man that gave the order to Bofur back at the bridge, the one that appears to be the leader of these people.

A shriek from one of his classmates stopped his glaring of the werewolf leader, It was Juliana, the girl who; like Harry was pushed up two classes, once in the elementary section, and the other just last year, at fifth grade. Following her line of sight, to the left of the werewolf leader's throne Harry saw a cage. When he took a closer look at what was inside the cage, Harry lost his rational mind for a few seconds.

For inside the cage, sitting with its back turned to them, was a man sized wild animal. It was not until he saw what the animal was gnawing at that Harry lost his thoughts.

'A hand! A human hand!'

The animal, made aware because of the girl's shrieking turned around. When its back was turned Harry thought it was some kind of bear, although very thin. Now, facing them, growling; with its hands and teeth dripping with blood, was a werewolf.

~Chapter End~

* * *

**Author's Note**

****The Aghanim's Cube:**

I invented the cube because I wanted to arm the aurors in my story a little bit better than canon. The way I see it, in the Books and in the Movie(s), aurors were like cops from a low budget film, dying left and right from the slightest curse thrown at them.

****Aurors' Response Time:**

At first I wanted to make them a little bit slower, from the crime scene to the werewolf's coven. But, I developed a little equation that made me speed it up.

Wand = forensic tool + Database entry/retrieval tool + Trained analyst + etc.

****Side Notes:**

1) The reason I made Harry loose and suffer so much is that i want him to have a motive for entering wizarding Britain. Not just because he was asked(?) to go to a magic school. Yes, he will be out for revenge.

2) Although it's still a lot of chapter away. I've been racking my brain on who the pairing will be. Romance will not be till much, much later of course. But I want Harry to have that early interaction so they won't be complete strangers.

3) I want there to be a clear distinction between school level spells and combat spells. I would appreciate it if you could point them out for me.


	4. First Blood III

**The Story of a Potter**

Posted: 06-23-2014

Summary:

The house of Potter have all but died out. The wizarding world is but a joke of it's former self. When the future looks bleak for the citizens of the wizarding world, fate has sent its hero. A dark knight that is both just and merciless, fair to the good and a demon to those doing evil's deed. This is the story of Harry Potter, the wizard to lead them all.

AN: Chapter beta-ed by Commando678

* * *

Chapter 3 : First Blood - III

* * *

**AN: When I first started this fanfic, it was just for the sake of being a Harry Potter fan; I never thought people would actually read it. So, whether it's a single person or a thousand reading it, it's the same for me. I'm doing this because I am a fan of the Harry Potter series.**

** Just so you could look at this fanfic from my point on view I tell you something about myself. First, English is not my native language. I'm not going to say what Is or where I come from, I'm just saying it so you could excuse some grammar or spelling mistake.**

** Secondly, I'm 24 and I'm a policeman. So yea, I've seen some really nasty shit. The type of things a human being isn't supposed to do to another human being. That's where all the gore of the story comes from. I guess it gives me some stress outlet. I AM NOT WRITING IT BECAUSE I'M SOME WIERDO!**

**Also, if you like the story and have some plot Idea feel free to share. Anyway, thanks for reading.**

****Man of Constant Sorrow: Thanks for the compliment. I'm also a fan of the Harmony pairing and often thought about writing it. Though I can't say for sure if I'm going to use it, it's one of the major contenders.**

**** Plums : It is, isn't it? A lot of authors have written the Harry abduction story. I won't defend my work and say it'll blow your mind or anything. But I will give my own twist to it and hope it is to everyone's' liking.**

* * *

**(Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**)

Professor Minerva McGonagall paced through the corridor that leads to the headmaster's quarter. Usually, the disciplined looking old gal was calm and collected. Today however, you could see that she was anything but calm, her steps were deliberate, forced.

It had been weeks since one of her lions was taken and it did not sit well with her how slow the law enforcements worked. Were it not for her responsibility as head of Gryffindor house and the headmaster's pleading, she would be out there searching.

A few minutes ago, she received a note from the headmaster, telling her to attend an urgent meeting. The note did not specify the nature of the emergency, but with the current event, it was not hard to guess it had something to do with two students from the school being kidnapped.

She had made the head boy, a Mr. Selwyn; take over her class third year transfiguration class. With a quick description of how she wanted the lesson to be covered to the head boy, the professor rushed to the headmaster.

So lost was she in her thoughts that she almost didn't notice Professor Flitwick, who was about to head up the stairs leading her destination.

'Filius', she called with her usual stern voice. Unlike her, you could tell the tiny man whose name she called out had his wits about him. He quickly turned to the voice that called out to him.

'Ah... Minerva. I assume you were summoned as well'. It was answered with a nod. 'Shall we', he gestured, ever the gentleman.

~XXXX~

Albus Dumbledore sighed; he stood closer to the instrument he had been checking for the past hour. A few years ago, after the abrupt demise of the Dark Lord, the headmaster placed a number of Inubus ward at the home of five children, children whom he monitored from his office through the various devices at his office that were linked with the wards he had placed at their homes..

Almost two hours ago, he received notice that aurors were about to storm a werewolf coven. Also, the report implied that the werewolves were re-stocking their pack due to the number of muggle children taken.

If this was the case, there was a chance, a small chance that the two students that were taken from Hogsmeade were still alive.

Sitting on the famous headmaster's chair of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore could feel his age creeping up on him. Even after his long absence, Tom Riddle was still causing him headaches.

His peripheral vision alerted him to the continuous flickering of lights at the left corner of his office. It was the shelf at which he had placed his monitoring instruments years ago.

He felt himself foolish for not catching the lights earlier and quickly went to investigate. It was the device linked to the Inubus ward of Number 4, Pivet Drive, the residence of one Harry James Potter.

Years ago, a Prophesy was given concerning the Dark Lord Voldemort and an unborn child. The child would be the one to vanquish the Dark Lord.

According to the prophesy, the child would be born to those that had defied the Dark Lord three times or more, and born at the end of the seventh month; July. Also, it said that the Dark Lord would mark the child as his equal.

Back then, so difficult was it to distinguish which was the child of Prophesy as five children meet the requirement. They all had the right parents, right birth date, and also; they were each marked in a way by the Dark Lord.

In an attempt to find out which of the children would be the destined child. The headmaster, in his wisdom decided to monitor each child in a discreet manner, by placing wards of his own design in the residence of all five children to the knowledge of none but himself.

Through those wards, Albus Dumbledore could monitor the growth of each child, specifically their magical growth. You see, the Inubus ward was designed such that it periodically measured the magical core of its target, measuring the core in a graph of the Merlinear scale to the 1000th power.

According to the Headmaster, the child that reported the highest core output from his monitors would most likely be the child he was searching for. Who else but the prophesized child would have such bountiful amount of raw magic?

When he first took a spark from the instrument and placed it on a parchment, he refused to believe what it showed him. The graph that appeared on the parchment read a core output between the 46-53rd value, the same as some of the seventh year students in the school.

Measuring the exact magical core value of a wizard was taboo. Back in the 11th and previous centuries, when most of the families in wizarding Britain were purebloods, the practice of measuring the wizard's core was common. It was mainly used to decide which child would have magic strong enough to inherit the title of head of family.

But, as with other seemingly harmless practices, it was abused to such a degree that infanticides began when a child showed magical core that was considered unworthy.

Albus was deeply troubled. He doubted that even the current head boy, George Selwyn would have had such a strong core back when he was a first year.

So captured was he with his new finding that he did not notice the wards in the headmaster's office alerting him of the two presence at his door.

'Albus', the voice of his deputy headmistress brought him out of his thoughts.

'Ah... Minerva, Filius. Excellent timing', he welcomed them, offering them sweets. It was always the same routine with the headmaster – a welcome, offering seats and the ever present offer of sweets that were always declined.

The present situation dictated that it was no time for small chit chat so he got straight to the point.

'I was notified that a number of aurors finally found what seemed to be the trail of a werewolf pack. They believe this pack was responsible for the kidnapping of our students and other children'.

'Are the sure about this Albus?', it was Minerva. 'What if it was some other thugs that was responsible for our students' kidnapping?'

'There is no concrete evidence to tell whether they are the same group or not Minerva, I can only speculate. From what I was told, a muggle school bus was attacked by a werewolf pack, FenrirGreyback's. I...'

'Muggles? Why would they concern themselves with muggles?' It was Filius that cut him off.

'It is a surprising turn of events', the headmaster admitted. 'I believe Greyback is planning on increasing the size of his pack, and is desperate enough to include muggle children to his plan.'

It was true, with the sudden demise of the Dark Lord and the Ministry regime that followed, werewolf packs such as Greyback's were dwindling. It was possible that his pack was hunted so close to extinction that he would not be above including muggles into his pack.

'Unthinkable!' Minerva gasped. 'Wizards aside, does he not know muggles react differently to lycanthropy'.

It was a good point the deputy headmistress made. When a wizard is infected with the dreaded disease, his magic somehow prevents the wolf spirit from taking complete domination of his self. But with muggles, with so little magic in them, the result was an abomination that should never be allowed to exist.

The last known muggle to be infected with lycanthropy was back in 1923, when a stray werewolf entered a small muggle community in Liverpool and bit a number of civilians. The result, mindless beasts that were dominated by the wolf in them, cursed in the wolf form for eternity.

It took the Ministry nearly half a decade to hunt down the mindless abominations and to cover up the incident from muggles. Back then, with the problem of a rising would be Dark Lord, they were severely lacking in man power. Thus, allowing the incident to escalate to such boiling proportions.

'Albus, if they indeed plan to restock their pack, does it mean that our students could be alive?' It was Filius, who had renewed hope that his kidnapped raven would be alive.

'I believe so Filius', the headmaster responded. 'Magical children would be a great boost if that is indeed their intention'.

There was a spell of silence, each of them contemplating the situation. Finally, it was the headmaster that broke the silence.

'I have another reason for calling the two of you here, as it includes the two of you in one way or another'.

'As you are aware, nine years ago a terrible tragedy befell the Potter family. James and Lilly Potter were murdered in cold blood, leaving their new born child behind'.

This brought the other two inhabitants of the room out of their present thoughts. For Minerva McGonagall, James and Lilly Potter were her former lions of Gryffindor house. James Potter, being a transfiguration protégé was her favorite one upon a time.

As for FiliusFlitwick, Lilly Potter nee Evans was a student whom he had even planned on apprenticing, even if he never got the chance. Needless to say, both of them were very close to the deceased Potters.

'Did something happen to the child Albus?', Minerva asked in her no nonsense tone.

'I cannot tell for certain' replied the headmaster, happy to get her attention.

'There are signs that the boy is showing powerful bouts of accidental magic. I've already owled someone to check up on the boy, as discreetly as possible. But it would be assuring of one of you would be able to check up on him'.

'I would do it myself', the headmaster continued. 'Were it not for Fawkes being in the middle of his burning days', the headmaster gestured the featherless baby Pheonix.

'I'll do it', Minerva volunteered immediately. 'But it will have to wait a few days. I'm in the middle of some important topics in class as such; i cannot leave at the moment. But I'll check up on the boy at my earliest convenience'.

'That is all I ask Minerva', replied the smiling headmaster.

~XXXX~

(**The Midland Forest**)

'Dammit! Dammit! Where the fuck did they get S-class wards', cursed Robards, who was in the process of de-warding the security around the front entrance of the coven.

S-class wards were military grade wards. Originating in China, these wards; beside the standard function of alerting the presence of intruders, could also be programmed in such a way that it could deliver basically anything short of the killing curse to anyone not keyed to them.

The 37 men consisting of aurors and hit wizards were divided into two teams; one would make a frontal assault whereas the other would enter from the back. Now, it might be considered foolish to attack a wolf den from only two points, but they could not afford to spread themselves too thin as the number of the enemy was unknown.

Robards held his wand out in front of him, the tip aglow with a light that could be mistaken for a lumos. He was steadily discharging his magic to the surrounding area to detect the barrier of the ward that might be around him.

It was a painstakingly slow process, being able to cover 6 yards or so at a quarter of an hour. This was the fourth time they had switched, one person at a time taking point in detecting the wards, discharging raw magic from their core was taxing indeed, and they could not afford to drain themselves too much for the fight ahead.

Then the glow at the tip of his wand dimmed slightly, indicating the presence of a barrier. 'Found it', Robards whispered. He stepped back knowing there was nothing more he could do.

The medic that belonged to Robards's team stepped forth, kneeled and drew a runic circle as he had done four times prior.

The arithmancy in calculating the focal point of a ward was a delicate; step by step process. Miscalculation even to the 100th of a decimal point would place the location of the ward to a few yards of where it actually was, and in this case, that would be a disaster.

S-class wards were different from the conventional wards in a sense that they could not be conjured from the wand. Instead, they a created through a number of steps that included runes, periodical feeding of raw magic, and a time period of 6-8 months for the runes and magic to integrate.

The result was a thin disc shaped object the size compact disc. They could be mounted on walls, hung from a tree branch or any other way their owners wish.

In this case, several wards were paced outwards in a concentric circle, each barrier created from them overlapping the other to create a huge, invisible dome.

The medic pointed his wand forward, slowly moving it from left to right at a steady level. He would switch between a careful observation of where his wand pointed, to monitoring the rune circle.

The red glow of the rune indicated he had found the location of the ward; it was under a disillusionment charm. A silent 'Finite Incantatem' shot out from his wand in a faded stream, keeping the power level to a minimum. The stream connected to the ward, making it visible. Just like the previous ones, the disc shaped ward was mounted on a two meter high pole. It was the Captain's turn once more to act.

Having the most raw power and core control out of the group, it was Captain Fuller who had 'Confunded' the other wards.

Even with all his years of experience, and him being a master of non-verbal casting, the captain had to voice out the spell, such was the difficulty in casting a 'Confundus' charm.

'Confundo', he whispered, the strain of the spell clearly visible on his face.

The light blue glow of runes on the ward flickered for a few times, and then the glow changed to silver. They had tricked the ward into registering them as werewolves.

'Team 2, we are ready for assault. What's your situation?', the captain said through the radio connection on his ear piece.

'Team 1, we are still dealing with obstacles. Repeat.. We are still dealing with obstacles, ETA to Rabbit hole, 8 minutes'. Was the immediate reply from the hit wizard in charge of the team.

It was understandable, unlike team 1 who approached from a tree line and the cover it provided. Team 2 was approaching from a swampy area, the trees were sparse and there was little to no cover the closer they got to their target.

After a moment to think it through, Captain Fuller told his team the assault plan.

'Spread out in a javelin formation. Robards, you take point. Keep it in a straight line people; we don't want to step into another barrier'.

Less than a minute later they could see what appeared to be an entrance at a throwing distance. They had to move slowly as their targets were ridiculously keen on the senses.

Sight, hearing, smell and taste – everything was boosted, just about the only positive effect of lycanthropy. The small breeze added to the difficulty of their task, they did not want the wind behind them given how strong a werewolf's sense of smell was.

Robards signaled a stop and everyone dropped low, even with the disillusionment charm they were under, they were not taking risks.

It was a patrol, and there were two of them. A nod from the captain and Robards smirked a little. Signaling smith, who had been flanking him on the right to follow him, they approached the unsuspecting werewolves.

Smith and Robards were very close, best friends, It was their dream to be aurors back when they were students. Now, at age 24, both men had fulfilled their dream and were quickly earning the respect of their peers, their teamwork was impeccable.

Slowly both men approached their victims, no word needed to say which was going to take out which. A couple of steps later they stopped, they were close enough.

'Imperio', both of them whispered.

The two werewolves that were patrolling had a brief chance to sense the aurors in between their casting and appearing from the disillusionment. But, both were not fast enough to react in time.

The unforgivables casted on them quickly took hold; both of them changed their tracks and were now walking toward the two aurors.

It was Smith who struck first, his hand was on a dagger that had been strapped to his back, cutting the werewolf across the neck, the spell on the dagger made it so effective that it nearly severed his head.

The other however, was spared for interrogation, if only for a short while. Bounded by a conjured rope, the captain began to probe the mind of their prisoner.

The lowering of his wand told the men he got all he needed, and before anyone else claimed his victim Robards unsheathed his own dagger and drove it up the werewolf's neck, straight up to his brain, He had always favored a more direct approached than Smith.

An identification rune located at the entrance was Confunded, allowing them to slip through undetected.

Once inside, they had another obstacle, the path branched in two. And they were sure the two branched further as they go along.

'Team 2, we have made entry.. There are multiple paths.. Repeat, multiple paths. Follow our vector with the cube; we'll require immediate back up.' The captain instructed, they couldn't linger anymore, every second wasted reduced their element of surprise. It was now or never.

The Aghanim's cube was given to team 2 as they were the supporting team, and should be able to back up team one as soon as possible.

It was in time like this that the hit wizard leading team 2 marveled at the genius of the unspeakables. The cube could pick up literally any trace of magical signature if the user knew how to program it.

Luckily, every aurors carried a badge; just like their muggle counterparts. The badge, whilst acting as a receiver for the radio transmission that was connected to their ear piece, also acted as a homing beacon should any auror require help but was unable to communicate with HQ.

While his team was in the process of confunding their last ward, the hit wizard adjusted the cube to pick up the signal emitted by Captain Fuller's badge, but adjusted it such that it would leave a magical trail, a trail of light that was in the visible spectrum that only the holder of the cube could see.

'Team 1, we are at our last obstacle. Back up is on the way, ETA 2 minutes ', said the hit wizard.

~XXXX~

The group of children stared at awe and fear at what the werewolf leader had done. The somewhat regal looking werewolf had blasted the wall behind them to get their attention.

Whatever the werewolf had done, the stone wall was still smoldering. The place where the spell had struck was distinctive; a small crater was formed on the wall with melted stone still dripping like magma.

Even Harry, who had somehow located his friend Cleverly and was slowly approaching him was rooted in place.

Greyback saw he now had their undivided attention and chuckled slightly. Muggles were easy to bewilder.

'Look upon me muggles!', he roared, 'Since ancient times your kinds have feared us, and whispered our names in the dark in fear we would set our sight upon you'.

'You are nothing but specks of dust between our nails; you are prey the creator made for us to feat upon. So great was your fear of us that you reduced us to fiction, just a story from days long past'.

'But I tell you now, we are here, we remain; and we will never go away. How can the likes of you, who stand so low at the circle of life, erase our existence?'.

'But I will have mercy upon you muggles', Greyback said, meeting the frightened children's eyes to emphasize his point.

'I, in all my glory, have chosen to liberate you from the shackles of mortality. In three day's time the new moon will arrive, in three day's time I will liberate your pitiful existence'.

Harry had heard fairly good number of speeches in his life, some from Father Harley, some from the telly, and other from protestors or campaigners on the street. But none had penetrated him, reached his soul as this.

It was like this man; beast could see through your very soul. His voice was seductive, the type of voice you would find on great leaders, holy men, Presidents even.

From the tone of his voice, Harry could tell he was about to end the speech, but never in his mind could he foresaw what the werewolf was about to do.

'ANUMUS LUPUS!'.. The werewolf leader shouted, his men shouting the same in chorus.

The animal in the cage, as if aware of what his master was saying let out a deafening roar.

AND ALL HELL BROKE LOOSE.

~XXXX~

* * *

~Chapter End~

* * *

**Author's Note**

The next chapter will be the last installment of the First blood arc. After that, there will be a couple of pre-Hogwarts chapters, stay tuned.

**** Use of the Unforgiveable:**

It always bugged me why the good guys were hurling the unforgivables like the Death Eaters. So in my fanfic, the aurors will be allowed to use them when given permission from HQ or by a field officer.

****The ear peice: **

There have always been discussions about technology in the Potter universe, but one thing is true, wards or magic don't interfere with Radio wave. Yes, the mess up electricity, but not radio wave.

****Auror equipment:**

The fact that aurors didn't have fancy equipments have always disappointed me. So, i made up a number of tools and gadgets, more of them will be revealed later.


	5. First Blood IV The End of Innocence

**The Story of a Potter**

Posted: 06-13-2014

Summary:

The house of Potter have all but died out. The wizarding world is but a joke of it's former self. When the future looks bleak for the citizens of the wizarding world, fate has sent its hero. A dark knight that is both just and merciless, fair to the good and a demon to those doing evil's deed. This is the story of Harry Potter, the wizard to lead them all.

AN: Chapter Beta-ed by Commando678.

* * *

Chapter 4 : First Blood – IV The End of Innocence

* * *

Adrenaline, in simple explanation is a hormone that the body releases in flight or fight situations. If you were a medical student, you would know it by the more medical term 'Epinephrine', or the chemical composition that make up the hormone.

If you were an extreme sport nut, adrenaline would be a close friend, something that gives you that extra percentage.

Whether you're skiing down a mountain at breakneck speed, or in the process of doing something normally considered madness. This miraculous hormone would give you that moment of clarity. But for one Harry James Potter, what his young body of 9 was experiencing could not be explained by the effects of adrenaline alone.

Yes, even from a young age he could compete physically with brutes such as his cousin, but he had always chalked it off as a blessing. After all, there are mountains of people out there who are genetically blessed to be stronger, smarter and healthier than other people.

Ever since the incident at the bridge, he had felt a steady increase of something in his body, a growth; which seemed at times to hum to him. The expressions on the guards, the panic stricken face of his cousin (who somehow made a miraculous recovery) and classmates, the three entrances of the hall they were in or Jefferson, Father Harley, and Sister Elizabeth – all of these were at the back of his mind while keeping a close ear on whatever the man on the platform was saying.

It had scared him the first time he realized this, the strength he felt in his arms seemed 'unnatural' as his uncle would put it.

As hard as it was to believe, these people were werewolves, 'Children of the night' as Bram Stoker had termed in his book.

It wasn't hard for anyone to figure out what these people had planned for them. Hell, he bet even Dudley would have figured it out between the first sentences of the werewolf leader.

The promise of 'Immortality' would have been tempting in any other day. But right now, it sounded like a snake trying to spoon feed them it's venom.

Harry's eyes scanned the room once more, despite all of it; he still needed to find the one called Bofur.

The werewolf's voice made it hard to concentrate. It was weird; in the movies it was always the vampires that were the seductive ones. It was ironic really, the large man who looked like a body builder having such an educated personality.

'ANUMUS LUPUS', the shouting put halt to every other thought he had, the roar that came from the cage however; made his soul jump.

It was an odd feeling; time seemed to slow down as his soul seemed to lean slowly to his right. Never did he thought he would react this strongly to the sound made by an animal, even the roar of the lion from the zoo didn't affect him this much.

Then it hit him, it wasn't his soul at all! It was him! He was falling to his side. Between the shouting and the roar of the beast, the explosion coming from the wall to his left failed to register in his brain.

~XXXX~

The deeper they were in the tunnel, the faster David's heart seemed to beat. He cursed himself for showing such sign of weakness.

He was at the front of the line of aurors who were slowly making their way inside the wolf's den. It was a good thing he had ordered everyone to move in a single line, two yards spread from each other, or else the person that was behind him could have heard his pounding heart.

He could make a rough map of the den in his mind; the tunnels were spread out in a somewhat concentric circle, with straight lines of tunnels cutting through each concentric layer, forming numerous intersection points.

If his hunch was correct, by following a straight path they would reach the center of this maze, and to their targets.

It surprised him what little security could be found in a den this size. Either the wolves were on another raid, or they moved to another coven, the security they had eliminated told him they hadn't.

Slowly they moved forward, if they were to slip up now it would be disastrous. Lives were at stake, the element of surprise would mean everything in the upcoming battle.

It was a while ago he found out that what he thought were straight tunnels weren't that straight at all, they were a mixture of zig zags, mud that reached a ankle, and the stench of dead flesh.

Signaling a stop, he slowly peaked out from the corner. Pointing his wand forward he sensed for signs of life, he could feel several from behind that wall that was in front of him.

He was right; there was something important at the center of the den, a large dome that shot straight up to the ground, it was encircled by a six yards wide path. Slowly they circled the dome, hugging the wall.

They could hear a faint voice, a man's, coming from inside the dome. A few steps later they saw a door, then after another few steps another, and another. The first door was a relief; they had started to wonder how they were going to get in.

After completing a full circle they were at their starting point. Three door standing in between them and their targets.

The few experienced ones rejoiced at their luck, here they were, at the very center of a werewolf coven with their cover intact.

It was a good thing that doors to the dome were locked, if they weren't it was a certainty they would be discovered by now.

They quickly jammed the door from the outside; numerous charms were put on it to make sure it was not easily opened. They had the element of surprise and they would take full advantage of it. Three people were posted at each door, the remaining eight people of team one would make the main assault, the ones posted on the doors would act as back up.

'Team 2, we are going in, get you arses over here ASAP', the captain whispered in his radio.

On a spur of the moment thought Captain Fuller decided to make a dynamic entry, through the wall. If they were going break their cover anyway, might as well do it with a bang!

They were lined side by side facing the dome wall, this was it; they were going in.

NOW! The captain barked no long seeing the need for whispering.

BOMBARDA! They all shouted in unison.

~XXXX~

It took a few seconds to regain his bearing. His legs felt like jelly, no matter how hard he tried to push himself up his feet refused to have a steady grip on the ground.

'Fuck... fuck, move... move.. Fuck you dammit mooove', he told his legs through gritted teeth.

People were entering from a huge hole on the wall; he could tell they were from some kind of organization because even with the extra padding here and there, they all wore the same basic clothes.

Compared to what he was seeing now, the little piece of magic he saw when he was in his cell was like comparing a small flame from a match to a roaring forest fire.

It was a good thing the explosion had knocked them down. Otherwise, they would have been right in the line of fire.

Some of the kidnappers that were standing near the children had recovered from the blast and were fighting back.

Beams of light, varying in color flew back and forth. The two teams of combatants were evenly matched.

Harry had counted twelve kidnappers when he was searching for Bofur. Nine of those were confronting the intruders; two others were standing near the platform where their leader stood, all with wand in hand.

It was like watching a disciplined, mentored warrior fighting against a brawler from the street. Where the intruders fought with precision, teamwork and finesse; the defenders replied with power, rage and brutality.

They were evenly matched, even with the defenders having the advantage by a single number.

'AvadaKedavra!' it came from the direction of the platform. Three green streams of light flew towards the uniformed men. It was beautiful to watch to the men in uniform reacted.

For Harry, who was watching the battle with rapt attention, It was not lost how they were diving or rolling left and right just to avoid those three green lights.

The person that was at his far right, the one closest to the platform dived just in time to avoid the beam that scraped out chunks of rock from the hard floor.

The one standing in the middle, which seemed to be their leader judging from how he seemed to order them; simply flicked his wand upwards and what looked like a stalagmite shot out from the ground, intercepting the green light.

The one standing right next to their leader was not so lucky, it looked like he wasn't paying attention to anyone else other than the men that were in front of him.

When the green light was just about to hit him, he slashed his wand towards it, and a faint translucent shield appeared. Harry could tell something was wrong from the look of sheer terror on his face.

The beam shot right through his shield, hitting him in the chest blowing back a few feet. The light from his eyes were gone even before he hit the ground.

'Smith!', cried the man who was the first to dodge the beam.

He pointed his wand upwards; the tip was glowing, pulsing bigger and bigger. It looked like it was charging up to do some real damage.

The captain was staring at the man in shock; he was opening his mouth to shout something to the man.

'Robards no! You'll bring the roof d...'.

Robards slammed the football sized ball of light at the ground. It was like being inside a snow globe with a hyperactive child shaking it.

The ground shook, and large chunks of stone protruded out from the previously smooth floor. Cracks appeared on the wall and ceiling, it would not be long till a cave in.

The children, who had been too dumb struck to make a sound were brought out of their spell, cries filled the air.

Amazingly, it was aurors that recovered first. The backups arrived during the destruction caused by their friend, and five of the werewolves were felled in a matter of seconds, Robards who took care of three of them by himself.

The remaining four rushed over to their leader, no longer having the stomach to face the rage fueled auror.

The aurors quickly placed themselves between the children and the wolves. Cornering the beasts, it was sixteen versus seven; the odds were in their favor.

The door to the left of where the children stood suddenly blasted open, and everyone save the aurors were surprised. After all, they were expecting the new comers.

If the odds were in the aurors favor before, now it would be a certain victory. Twenty aurors raced out from the door, lining up next to their comrades.

'Took you long enough', the leader of team 1 said, his eyes never leaving the werewolves his wand was pointing at.

The hit wizard who was leading team 2 merely responded with a grunt, he too had his wand pointed to the wolves.

'It's over Greyback, surrender!', shouted Captain Fuller.

~XXXX~

Greyback was furious, how dare these insects trespass into his home. His eyes travelled to the center of the hall, to the corpse of his children. These humans will pay for what they have done.

'Did you really think victory would be so easy against me law men?'. His eyes were aglow with red, his rage showing through them.

Though he did not show it, Greyback was a little worried. But what worried him was not the thirty or so aurors in front of him. Sure, he could have saved himself should he wish; but he did not flee, as it would mean sacrificing what little he had left of his pack, something the wolf in him would not permit.

What worried the werewolf lord was a guest he was expecting, a very dangerous guest.

A few hours ago, he had sent his right hand man; Bofur on a task to Germany. Bofur was to formally invite an elder to witness their ceremony, one to bless the ritual that was to happen it three days.

The reason he had assembled the children in the hall in the first place was for them to be inspected the elder. But, with the way things were going. He just hoped the elder would not just kill him along with the aurors.

'Your last warning Greyback, will you surren...'.

It did not matter to Greyback what the law man was saying. His eyes were still at the center of the room, but not at his fallen men.

There was a distortion on the air, a tell-tale sign of time and space folding around it. What happened next was in a blur.

The first indication that other people had arrived in the hall was the gurgling sound made by the auror who was treating the children.

The acute ear of Captain Fuller made him turn around, although the creepy grin he saw on Fenrir Greyback had a little to do with it as well.

The medic on team two, who was kneeling as he was treating the more seriously wounded children, had a sword piercing his chest from the back; it was buried on his back to the hilt, the tip of the sword touching the ground.

They were a bit even now, thirty six aurors to the nineteen wolves.

They were completely dumbfounded, the aurors. Their advantage had turned south in a matter of seconds. The ancient looking werewolf before them looked powerful, and looked old enough that he would make even Dumbledore look like a middle aged man.

The elder had his sight set on Greyback, deliberately ignoring the aurors. They did not even register as a threat to him.

'It seems you are still the same naive boy, Greyback', said the elder. His voice coated with thick German accent.

'Forgive me Elder', replied Greyback, his head in a respectful bow. 'I have an unforeseen...infestation problem'.

'Think nothing of it dear boy, i find the situation rather amusing' was the reply. The elder casually pulling out his sword from the lifeless medic.

"You are interrupting this sacred ritual, law men. I ask you to leave while there is time" he said, his voice a bit sterner.

"BE QUIET FILFTH!" was the immediate reply, it was Captain David Fuller. His eyes were burning with hatred; he had lost two good men to these beasts.

"You are under arrest for breaking the treaty of Romania. Do you surrender?"

The old werewolf chuckled.

"You are under the impression that you have; how they say 'the upper hand' law man. But I find you naivety very amusing, so I shall ask again. LEAVE! ".

"HAH!" was the reply. David knew it was a little immature, but he thought it was a fitting answer given the situation.

"Then you shall all die", the elder said. He shot a red spell at the auror captain, sending him flying to the wall. Were it not for David's strong magic, the spell would have destroyed him.

The fighting that ensued was an utter chaos. The aurors were pinned between two groups of werewolves. They could do nothing to help the children, who were also caught in the middle.

The hit wizard who was in charge of team two knew that if they kept to the defensive, their attackers would soon throw in unforgiveables; from which their protego would not protect them.

Then an idea hit him, if the situation was already in chaos; why not make it more chaotic.

Stealing a page from Robards, he began charging the spell; then struck the already cracked ground.

~XXXX~

It didn't matter to Harry which direction he was crawling, all he knew was he had to find cover.

It was a smart move what the uniformed man had done, hitting the ground that was already weak from the previous spell. One minute he was upstairs, keeping his body as flat a possible least a spell hit him, then he was falling; they all were.

Although he had no idea where he was going, he had been here before. This was where they were held, before they were forced upstairs to the hall.

The cries of children in pain filled the air. Unlike Harry, they were not so lucky; some were pinned down by the debris, while other had their arms, legs or body being crushed by large chunks of the destroyed floor.

'Can't help them now have to keep going... Can't help them now have to keep going.. Can't help them now have to keep going', he repeated in his head, crawling forward as fast as he could.

After a while found cover behind a pillar at a corner. He could hear the sound of spells crashing against the stone wall, sounds of flesh being torn from the body.

He suddenly realized was familiar with this place. A quick glance to his right and he could see the large wooden door, behind the door was the dungeon they were kept earlier.

His feeling of familiarity gone as soon as it came; he had that feeling again, like he was a lamb in a cage with a wolf.

He forced himself to look past the door to the other corner, it took a while but he saw it; teeth. It was the caged animal from upstairs.

He was running for dear life now, the beast close at his heels. It was funny really, crawling to that corner with all his strength; only to find it wasn't the safest place to be.

It was like some weird game of rugby, dodging spells left and right, with a werewolf right behind. It was only days later Harry will realize how lucky he was not to be hit by a stray spell.

The large gash he felt at his back from the wolf's claw made him realize how close it was. He had to lose the beast, make him focus on another target, or he was going to die.

Then he saw it, directly in front of him, two of the uniformed men taking cover behind a pile of rocks.

For a moment he thought they were going to fire on him, but he guessed they realized he was one of the children.

This was it; he had to time it right. The beast was so close; he could practically feel it breathing down his neck. 'One, two..', he counted down, 'Three', and he ducked. The beast crashed on to the two men.

It didn't matter to Harry what happed to it, he just kept of running. If he looked back he would have seen the wolf biting one of the man's arm; trying to tear it off, and the other man driving a knife through the wolf's head, and chopping off his friend's arm at the shoulder.

But he just kept on running.

Only on seeing something familiar did he stop; a kitchen. Of course, it wasn't the type of kitchen he was used to, the barrel sized cauldrons were prove of that. But it was familiar nonetheless.

The noise behind him made him jump behind the nearest cauldron. He was lucky the thing was so big.

Two people came crashing through; from the sound alone Harry could tell it was two men trying to kill each other. His curiosity taking the better of him, he took a quick peek.

They were wrestling, one of the uniformed man and one of the wolf. Neither could cast a spell as each held the other's wand arm.

Both of them knew how to fight, that much was clear, and they fought dirty. They clawed, kneed and head butted each other time to time.

It was the uniformed (a lawman; according to the old wolf) man that made the first mistake, and it cost him dearly. The wrestling resulted in the both of them rolling. As they stopped they lawman took out a knife from his back and slashed wildly, he would have gutted the wolf on the next slash had he not lost his footing.

The wolf took advantage of the slip up and grabbed the man's hand; reversing the knife to its owner. The law man was at the wolf's mercy now. Flat on his back, all he could do now was pushing away the knife that was aiming for his throat.

It was at that moment Harry's anger came back to him, he stood up and grabbed the first thing he could find, a butchers knife.

With all his might Harry leapt towards the wolf that had his back turned to him, striking as hard as he could.

He didn't know where he struck or how many time, he just chopped and chopped.

With all the strength from his arm gone, he dropped the knife to his side. He stepped back at the horror of what he had just done.

The wolf was still straddling the law man, but was dead as a door nail. But the back of his head looked like chopped cabbage.

Harry didn't know how many minutes he stood there, looking. The law man under the wolf seemed to be dead too, he was no longer struggling.

It was painful – Jefferson, Sister Elizabeth, Father Harley, and now this. Why did it have to happen?

He let out a coarse scream.

~XXXX~

Harry James Potter of Privet Drive was not a thief. Save for the occasional pillaging of the Dursley's fridge at midnight he had never stolen or done anything of the sort.

But, two magic wands that were no longer needed by their owners were too good to pass up. He quickly shoved the wands inside his socks, covering them quickly with his pants.

It was a while since he killed the wolf, his thoughts had returned to a somewhat resemblance of normal.

Slowly he moved; the butcher's knife in hand. It was quiet; the sound of spell fire could no longer be heard. He kept to the wall, to the cover of the shadows.

Then he heard shouting. 'Archer!... Archer!', it was coming his way.

He was lucky the room adjacent to the kitchen was so big. It looked like some kind of dining hall; there were long benches and tables, plenty of cover.

'Archer! Archer!', it came closer.

Harry held his breath; he could hear the sound of two sets up footsteps. When they reached the room where Harry was hiding, they stopped.

'Bloody hell', it escaped his mouth.

'I'll check the other room', one of the men said, and went. It was only him and the other man now.

Years later, when he would be able to understand what spell the man was about to cast, Harry will understand how close he was from being found.

'Homenum Revel...'

But before the man could finish, 'Over here! Quick!', the man in the next room shouted.

Harry moved quickly when he could no longer hear the man's footsteps. He was heading to where they fell, hoping his classmates were alive.

To his surprise, there was no one there, no body, no classmates, no nothing. There were pools of blood here and there though.

Keeping to the shadows he moved up the stairs they were forced up to previously. He passed the dome that held the hall the battle took place.

Moving pass patrolling men was easier than expected, there were numerous tunnels. After five or six times in finding a guarded opening and doubling back; be found one un-guarded opening.

Slowly he moved, when he was right next to the large opening, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Peeping out, he saw the first happy sight since the bridge. There, on the opening were his classmates.

Some was lying still, some were standing; the law men had their wands pointed at those standing.

Holding his breath, he headed for a bush to the left. He was sure the six law men wouldn't notice, they seemed to be busy with what they were moving.

'Obliviate', he heard one of the men say.

'I think that's the last one', another said tiredly. 'Too bad we didn't have any calming draught, would have made the obliviation much easier'.

It was hard to be surprised with all that he had seen, but the sight of these men reattaching torn off limbs took Harry's breath away.

He could tell they were now finished, judging by them just talking.

An idea hit him, and hit flung the butcher's knife he was holding back inside the tunnel where he just came out from.

'What was that', one of them said, immediately alerted to the sound.

As luck would have it, all six of them went to the tunnel's entrance, leaving Harry plenty of time.

He quietly rushed over to where his classmates were, and plopped down right next one of them.

'Is that all of them?', he heard a stern voice, obviously belonging to someone in charge.

'Yes sir', was an immediate reply.

~XXXX~

Despite all that had happed, Captain Fuller was a happy man. They had done what they set out to do, and had done it with minimal loss of life.

Out of the thirty seven aurors and hit wizards, only five were dead; three came out with serious injuries but will make full recovery.

It would have been a bonus if they had been able to kill the werewolf elder, or Greyback and Bofur. But they had killed the rest, so it would be a long time till Greyback showed his face again.

'How are you son?', he asked the young lad they had rescued, the one the found in the cell.

'Fine sir, can't wait to go home'.

'Don't we all'.

'We have to move quickly, I've just been informed that the muggles are alerted to the missing children. Is the Portkey ready?', he asked.

'Yes sir'.. Harry could feel some kind of rope being wound around his leg. He could barely manage to stay awake now, the feeling of security making him realize how tired he was.

'Robards, Johnson. You're with me, the rest of you; back to HQ'.

'Yes sir', was a chorused reply.

'Portus', was all Harry remembered.

* * *

~Chapter End~

* * *

**Author's Note**

It very hard to write a good chapter without a beta, if anyone knows a good one, please let me know.

**** Werewolf Elder:**

I was thinking of creating a werewolf council. One that would judge packs if they should act out of bounds. They will be Harry's enemies of course; I wasn't just planning of letting him fight a Dark Lord.

****Un-described Spells:**

I don't plan to explain every spell used, sorry. It's like how the movie left us guessing when Voldemort and Dumbledore dueled.

**I was planning on Harry to deal with the tragedy in some way, but can't figure out how yet, I've been writing and re-writing. I'm open to suggestions if you have any.

** Plums : **Look man...or girl (if you're a dude, you have gender issues), if you don't like it, just don't read it, no one's forcing you. And about Dumbledore, I'm planning on letting him find out in later chapters.


	6. Chapter 6

**The Story of a Potter**

Posted: 21-07-2014

Summary:

The house of Potter have all but died out. The wizarding world is but a joke of its former self. When the future looks bleak for the citizens of the wizarding world, fate has sent its hero. A dark knight that is both just and merciless, fair to the good and a demon to those doing evil's deed. This is the story of Harry Potter, the wizard to lead them all.

AN: Chapter Beta-ed by Commando 678.

* * *

Chapter 5: The one Left Behind.

* * *

(**Cemetery: Somewhere in Little Whinging**)

The grass was wet from the mid day rain, and dark rain clouds filled the sky. The strength of the wind could be told by the fluttering of the jumper worn by the person standing in front of the tombstone.

'Samuel Lee Jefferson' was written of the stone in bold letters, angels holding up the letters at both ends.

The irony of it angered him, angels; where were they when his friend was about to die. If they weren't there in his hour of need they had no right being here.

It had been seven weeks since the tragedy that befell Saint Francis Middle School, but for Harry; it was like it happened just yesterday. The pain in his heart was no less then when he Jefferson die.

His heart was empty. He felt alone,like no one knew what really happened to them; which exactly the case was.

He had just woken up when the police and search party found them on that frightful night. And when he told his tale of the kidnapping and killings, they just waved him off as delusional, 'PTSD' they said.

They blood trail from the wrecked bus leading to where he was found made his case even less believable. The evidence was there, that he somehow managed to crawl out of the bus.

It was only when he and his cousin were back at number 4 Privet Drive he realized something, something he hadn't thought of before, what the thing inside the cage was gnawing at. It wasn't just a human hand; it was a woman's hand.

When he thought back long and hard, Harry was seventy percent certain it was Sister Elizabeth's hand;the beast had probably eaten the rest of her body. But what they recovered of Sister Elizabeth had all her limbs intact.

Was it possible? Those men somehow made her corpse whole again? It was possible, they did have magic wands.

He took out the pocket watch from the pocket of his jumper; it was a couple of minutes to two o' clock in the evening.

The watch was the only remainder he had of Father Harley; the headmistress had given it to him on the first day of school. She told him Father Harley would've wanted him to have it, he was the Priest's favorite student after all.

"Never forget. 5th July, 1989", he had carved the words on the back of the cover.

He was the only one not buried here Father Harley. His relatives had taken his body back to Manchester, which was where the man was from.

He didn't have any friends now that Sam was gone. Sure there was still Cleverly, but Tom and he weren't that close to begin with, their friendship was solely based off of proximity; both of them were friends to Sam. And without Sam to act as the glue, he doubt they would even speak to each other let alone continue being friends.

Two o' clock, it was time to go. But he couldn't bring himself to say goodbye, it was still too painful.

~XXXX~

(**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**)

The playful phoenix hopped around the office, as with every species of birds he was an early riser.

Every so often he would glance at the clock on the wall, as if understanding what the hands on the clock told of time. Though he didn't really need the clock for his morning routine, the phoenix didn't just fly upstairs like his instinct told him to. After all, his companion has requested long ago that he did not wish to be disturbed until it was five in the morning.

With the first chime of the appointed hour, the mythical bird swoops up to the headmaster's chamber.

He had felt his companion's heavy heart since he had awakened. Obviously the human hadn't slept again.

Flying past the room he noticed his friend meditating at the balcony, his hands folded behind him.

Albus opened his eyes. He knew he was again going to get an earful from the phoenix, he had felt the bird's annoyance towards his lack of sleep even when it was still at his office.

'Good morning Fawkes', the headmaster said before the bird could utter a sound. As good as Fawkes's intention was, he was just not in the mood for it today.

The phoenix straightened, it knew that now was not the time to voice its thoughts; instead, it sang a beautiful tune for its companion.

A lot was on the headmaster's mind, and none of it was happy thoughts. Past mistakes, present regrets, and future worries wrestled in his mind. But when a cycle of thought completed, it always ended with the name of two boys, Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom.

Out of the five children he had monitored these past years, the two of them rose above the rest as the likeliest contenders.

He would have chosen Harry based on the readings he got back then, had it not been for Neville showing a miraculous burst a few days ago, which measured a maximum of , whom he had sent to investigate, reported that young Neville had fallen from a balcony.

But instead of ending as a bloody paste on the ground, the young boy had bounced and bounced, all the way down the street.

Fawkes's song was the only thing preventing him from tears, how badly he had failed those two boys.

"..but he ordered the death of Lily's child, and the Longbottom's as well. I fear he plans to go after them himself, please, I beg of you, hide them.."

He remembers Severus's words as if it were just spoken to him.

He should have done better, done more to help the two families. They were amongst the few that answered his call to arms, knowing they could lose everything.

"Why didn't I take measures in my own hands?" he cursed himself.

After he warned them about the threat on their families, both James Potter and Frank Longbottom had told him; though not in exact detail, about the measures they were about to take to ensure the safety of their families.

Frank had been a little more optimistic than James, saying he would activate the old wards on the Longbottom home. Wards they used to use back in the warring days.

James however, felt his family would not be safe in the Potter's ancestral home. Too many knew where it was, also, he did not feel safe in the house his father was murdered in.

"We'll be living in Godric's Hollow...The house will be under a Fidelius with one of my friends as the secret keeper", James had said to him.

"How much would you curse me Lily?", he asked to the heavens.

In his weakness he had placed Lily's child, a possible inheritor to the will of Peverell; in a muggle home. Oh how the purebloods would ridicule him if they knew the truth.

Minerva had reported that the child was in good health, which was a relief. Their school bus had been in an accident, with many dead or injured, but the boy was safe.

"I'll make it right, one way or the other", he steeled himself.

"When the boys come to Hogwarts, I'll make things right".

~XXXX~

(**The Pit: Somewhere in Surrey**)

Left hook.

Dodge.

Right hook, and knee to the face.

And if they refuse to give up, a couple of kicks to the ribs while their down, it always finishes the job.

At 25 years old, life was good for Patrick Adams. It had been two years since he left the British army, and yet he had memories of deaths to last him two lifetimes.

Being the son of a respected Doctor in London, he had a happy: stable childhood. But no one, not even Patrick himself could explain he turned out the way that he did.

When he reached his adolescence, Patrick started to change. Instead of the innocent little boy, a suave, manipulative young man, who was quick with the tongue and even quicker with the fists took his place.

Expulsion from schools, and nights spent in the slammer became the norm. His father, not knowing what else to do; disinherited him, and threw him out of the house.

"...You'll be nothing more than a beggar on the street, you will never have discipline in your life, you hear me!" were his father's words as Patrick left.

He joined the army the next day, just to spite his old man.

But as it turned out, the army was the best thing that ever happened to Patrick. His rage could finally be channeled to something positive. He even went so far as finishing college while in the army.

After seven years, he left the army as a Lieutenant, with a Queen's Gallantry Medal to boot for his conduct in Operation Banner.

Right after his return to civilian life, he and a couple of his old acquaintances got together and founded what was now known as 'The Pit'. In the beginning, they started small,meeting in small groups around football stadiums, malls, and movie theaters.

But, just like Patrick, the angry young people that joined needed outlets. It began with graffiti, then street races, and then to what became the main event in the Pit, street fighting.

A huge, abandoned construction site served as the heaven for these troubled teens and adults. 'The pit' got its name from the huge, unfinished swimming pool where the fights took place.

"Nice fight".

"Way to clobber him K".

"K, you rock!"

Left and right people praised him on his victory. The pit was really packed tonight; college students looking for a good party filled it to the maximum.

"Yo! K, nice fight. He won't be challenging you no more", someonesaid just as he was about to open the door to his car.

"Meat, thought you were a no show tonight?" Patrick replied. As with every other prominent member, Patrick never went by his real name while in the pit. 'K' was his nick name; an abbreviation for 'King', a title given to the champion fighter in the Pit. Though, there had never been another K besides him.

Meat, who got the name from his brawler style of fighting; was from London originally, one of Patrick's old crowd, and one of the founder of the Pit.

"Naah! Wouldn't miss your fight for nothing, by the way K, I heard about some sod from London. Heard he's been beating everyone.."

"I've heard about him", Patrick said.

"Annnnd".

"And what?"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN WHAT? ARE YOU SAYING YOU'RE NOT INTERESTED? You could win 5k easily...you".

As Meat was rambling on, Patrick did the thing he was well known for. He slowly un-wrapped the blood soaked bandages off his hands, looking like he wasn't paying attention at all.

"K! You listening?"

Patrick looked up, and with a face full of mock confusion he said.

"Huh, you say something?"

"Fuck you K!"

Patrick laughed, it always worked. The more a person thought of himself, the more irritated he would get at what he just done.

Changing to a new set of clothes, he gestured Meat to follow him. Patrick took a beer from one of the coolers around the pit. When they reached a more secluded corner Patrick spoke in a low, serious tone.

"Meat, I think they're on to us, the coppers. They guy you were talking about, they call him Killer; guess how he got the name"

"Anyway, the last fight he did, a year ago; he killed his opponent four minutes in, got himself sentenced for forty to life".

"But how?" Meat began, but was cut off by Patrick.

"Exactly, he got out just like that. I think the coppers let him out early so he can lead them to people like us. Think about it, he..."

Patrick suddenly stopped; his gaze was on a pile of junk behind a huge stack of tires. Getting closer, he noticed a tiny frame of a boy; his eyes hadn't deceived him after all.

"What the hell..." he said, picking up the boy.

The kid was a mess, his clothes torn stains of blood and dirt. His face was swollen, with blood stain running from his nose to chin.

"Oy!" Patrick shouted to the guys that were on sentry duty that night.

"Did you see what happened to this kid?"

The guys that were on duty came running, not wanting to get on the bad side of someone like K.

"That was us K, we did that", said one of them, looking uncomfortable. He was a new guy if K recall.

"Why the fuck would you hit a kid?"

"Couldn't be helped K, the kid's a monster".

"Really?"K said, his eyes were narrowed.

The sentries stiffened, they knew if they didn't give a sound reason why they trashed the kid, they were in for the same fate.

"The kid's some kind of psycho K, he was wandering round the compound, and when we asked him what he was doing here, he just stood there, staring off into space"

"You beat him up because of that?" Patrick growled.

"Nnno, hell no! It's like I said, he just stood there. So we took his pocket watch, hoping we'd get some kind of reaction, and then he went crazy."

"He was like some kind of wild bull. Joe was the one who took the watch", he gestured to the guy on his right. Joe had a crooked nose; the swelling on it indicated it was broken recently.

"I'm telling you K, they kid's crazy. He just launched himself at Joe, punching and strangling him, it took five of us to pull him off."

"We had no choice, we didn't mean to beat him up that badly. He was attacking anyone that went near him, and he was dead strong".

Patrick took a moment to digest what he was told. "Make sure you don't beat up another kid while I'm around, or I'll tear you limb from limb", he growled at them.

"Gimme the watch", It was immediately handed to him.

It would be pointless beating up these guys. After all, they were just doing their job, but not being able to handle a little kid? It was pathetic.

"I'll see you later Meat" he said to his old friend, Meat nodded.

Putting the kid inside his car, Patrick collected his winnings and then drove off.

~XXXX~

(**The Pit: 11****th**** October 1989**)

"Get him Raven! Beat his ass!"

"You can do it kid, stay away from his kicks."

"Heh", Patrick couldn't help but chuckle. He was right, Harry was a natural. You could see no trace of fear when he was dodging the punches and kicks from his much older opponent.

It's been two weeks since he found the kid, battered and broken on this very ground, and how he regretted taking him home during the week that followed.

The kid was everywhere, literally everywhere - His door, the mall, hell; he was even at his window after he'd just had sex with his girlfriend.

At first he thought Harry was a retard, and why wouldn't he? No amount of threats could make the kid leave him the hell alone.

It was at a rainy evening that Patrick finally invited Harry inside his apartment. It was kinda hard ignoring a soaked kid standing on the fire exit at his window.

It was with the hope of scaring him off that Patrick took Harry back to the Pit. Two people beating the shit out of each other would scare off a ten years of kid right?

Wrong.

He had just left Harry's side when some brats took it upon themselves to welcome the youngest arrival that night.

When they couldn't get a response out of him with words alone, the three brats began pushing him between them.

It happened almost the same way as it did the last time. Somewhere in between the pushing, a pocket watch fell out, when one of the brats took it from the ground Harry attacked.

It was almost hilarious how a fifteen years old kid could receive that much damage from a ten year old. But the situation quickly went from laughable to bad when a fighter; who was obviously related to the kid Harry had beaten up, tried to avenge his relative.

It went by so fast, Patrick jumped in to defend Harry, words were exchanged, and before you know it, Harry had a fight scheduled the next week. And his opponent? The brat's older brother.

A soft groan brought Patrick's attention back to the fight. Harry was down on his back, his legs swept from under him. A sixteen years old high schooler, who was Harry's opponent, quickly followed his downed opponent.

"Give it to him Bull!" Shouted the sixteen years olds younger brother, the one who was the cause of the whole thing.

Bull had his left arm locked around Harry neck, while his other arm began delivering a series of blows.

"Come on you little shit! Come on!" Bull cried in a raged frenzy, hitting Harry as hard as he could.

It took all of Patrick's control not to go down and tear Bull away from Harry. Though he didn't have much love for the kid, he didn't like how badly the odds were against him.

"Get up kid, fight back", Patrick gritted.

Harry was in a daze, the punches he was receiving were like thunder rumbling on a distant hill. Somehow, is mind was in another plane, a place where it didn't matter, where all of it didn't matter.

He didn't know how long since Bull began pounding him, or how many times. He had accepted it, it was his fate. The pain, the helplessness, all he had to do was accept it and it would go away.

He wished Bull would just kill him right there.

Dup.

Dup..

It began with a little spark, like he was in a dream. He was searching for something, he could almost see it.

"Harry.", it was Jefferson, or more correctly-Jeffersons. He couldsee his friend, thousands of him, like slides of a projector each Jefferson was replaced by another, then another. They were at their classrooms, the cafeteria, the bathroom...

They were saying something, all of them. At first, there was no sound. Then another thunder and he could hear it clearly.

"Never forget. 5th July, 1989".

If Patrick believed in miracles, this would be one of them. The fight was only seconds away from ending when Harry somehow wrestled his opponent off of him.

"BOFUUUR", the kid had shouted, or something like that.

In a flash the kid was on top, straddling Bull who was on his back. Left, right, left, right... Harry was returning the favor, raining punches on the teenager.

One thing was obvious, that Harry hit much harder than Bull. Some twenty plus punches from Bull weren't enough knock out Harry whereas after only seven or so hits, Bull was noodle.

Even when it was clear the fight was over Harry didn't stop, he just kept hammering away.

Normally, when it's clear a fight is over, others would stop it. But the reason Patrick or any other didn't immediately jump in was because of the law, the law of the Pit.

According to the law, a victor would have a few moments to gloat his victory. He could shame the loser in any way he wants, even make him wear his underwear.

But this, this was far from the usual. "PAUL", shouted Bull's younger brother, revealing his real name. It took Patrick and some other guy to pull Harry away, damm! The kid was strong.

It was sickening, the damage that had been done to Bull. The most visible was the large cut on his upper lip, right below the nose; or what was left of the nose.

The cut ran straight up, you could see Bull's teeth and gums through it. It was bad; the kid was going to need some serious reconstructive surgery.

Patrick was furious, was Harry suicidal? He told the nearest guy to get Harry to his car quickly, before anyone recovered from the shock. Bull's supporters were going to be out for blood, he was sure of it, especially his older brother.

"**WHERE IS HE?**", the guy shouted, just like clockwork.

The fighter, noticing the look on Patrick's face brought his tone down a bit. As pissed as he was now, he was a long way from challenging someone like Patrick.

"Where is he K? I know you're hiding him. Give him to me".

Patrick knew he had to play this smart. He was the only founder here tonight, and if push turned to shove, this guy brought a lot of friends, and his reputation could only do so much.

"Are you ordering me?" Patrick's chilling voice answered.

"No K! I'd never...Look, you know what he'd done. I just want to return the fav.. "

"**I DECIDE WHAT HAPPENS TO WHOM!**"

"But..." Patrick held out a hand, silencing the fighter.

"But what Raven did was wrong, something like that shouldn't be allowed in the Pit. I'll teach it to him personally, now go".

"K, I just want...". "**LEAVE**!" Patrick ordered.

When the coast was clear, Patrick marched to his car. It was a good thing the founders' had their own parking place. He soon found Harry, sitting at the back seat of his car.

It was a good thing the window was already opened, or else he would have smashed it. He pulled Harry out from the window and slammed him at a wall.

"Christ Harry! What were you thinking, do you realize what you've done?"..

No response, Harry's head was down, his eyes to the ground. Irritated, Patrick slammed him again.

"Didn't you hear me Harry! You could have killed him!"

Patrick, with all that he had seen and experienced in the army, was freaked out at what happen next. Harry slowly lifted his head, his green eyes piercing Patrick's brown ones. There was a crazy smile on his lips. Slowly he opened his mouth; Patrick could see every detail, heard syllable in slow motion.

"I know".

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~Chapter End~

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**** If you like it, review.**


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